A Winter Day
by Hikaru H
Summary: Fluffy Destiel. Written in response to a prompt requiring Dean, Castiel, a snowball fight, hot chocolate, and whipped cream. Oneshot.


You wouldn't expect children to see Dean as the approachable type, but after living with Ben for a year he must have picked up one of those vibes. It's the only explanation he can think of for why the neighborhood kids near his hotel seem to think he needs to be forcibly included in their snowball fight.

He whirls around, ready for an attack as soon as the first ball of packed powder hits him squarely in the back of the head. It takes him a moment to realize it's not a real threat, just kids. That moment, however, is long enough for one of the children to shout, "Get him!" and for three more snowballs to hit him on various parts of the body before he can duck behind a tree.

He drops his shopping bag and scoops up a handful of his own, packing it down as he sneaks a peak past his woody barricade. A brief second is spent taking aim before he lets loose, remembering at the last moment to pull back and not throw full force. His first missile hits a boy squarely in the face, and he's already crouching down, grabbing another handful of snow as he dodges their retaliation. He's laughing as he ducks back behind his tree.

"Dean."

Dean jumps at the voice beside him as Cas appears next to the man's hiding spot. He opens his mouth to warn Cas to get out of the way, but it's too late. A well-aimed snowball catches the angel in the shoulder.

He whirls toward the projectile, knife slipping from his sleeve holster and down into his grip. Dean hears children shriek and the sound of feet running across packed snow. There are no more snowballs.

"Aw man, Cas, you scared them away!" Dean comes out from behind the tree, looking after the retreating kids. "I was gonna win, too."

Cas looked at the man as if he had just announced his engagement to a demon. "We were under attack."

"It was a game, feather boy." Dean tosses his unused snowball at Cas and it explodes across his chest, leaving the angel looking down at his snow-covered coat, somewhat mystified at the concept of 'game'. "It's what kids do."

The angel looks up at that, meeting Dean's eyes squarely. "You are not a kid, Dean."

"I'm a kid at heart," the man defends, grabbing his grocery bag with one hand and clapping the other hand on Cas' shoulder to emphasize his point. "Beside, next to you of course I'm a kid! What are you, a millennia old?"

"Two."

Dean begins guiding him down the street toward his hotel, grinning. "See? I rest my case. Now, let's go get warmed up. And there's something you've got to try!"

It doesn't even take five minutes to walk back to Dean's hotel room. He makes a quick stop in the lobby along the way, snagging a couple of the packets of mix-and-serve hot chocolate he saw sitting there when he checked in. Sam isn't in the room when they get back, but Dean' just shrugs it off. His loss. More chocolate for him.

He makes the angel sit on the end of a bed as he heats two flimsy cups of water in the ancient, creaking microwave, adds the powder, and stirs. It's the kind with the mini-marshmallows in it that Dean loves! More sugar is always a good thing! Like more beer or more AC/DC. Dean reaches into his forgotten grocery bag, past the aforementioned beer, and pulls out a can of whipped cream, one of his many guilty pleasures. But then, he doesn't really feel that guilty about it, so it's more like just a pleasure.

He hands a cup to Cas, warning him that it's hot, and eagerly watches the angel's reaction. Normally Cas wouldn't be eating or drinking any human food, but the beer Dean had ordered him at the den of iniquity had not been awful. He gives this new liquid the benefit of the doubt and takes a cautious sip.

Sweet liquid chocolate rolls over his vessel's taste buds, bringing forth Jimmy's memories of hot chocolate shared with his daughter after sledding in the park, building snowmen, making snow angels. Cas smiles slightly as the warms of happiness tingles through his vessel.

"So, what's the verdict? Do you like it?" Dean bounces slightly on the balls of his feet, looking like an expectant puppy.

Cas nods, looking down into the cup. "It is quite enjoyable."

Dean grins and sips his own hot chocolate, deciding not to tell Cas the he has whipped cream on his lip.


End file.
